“Let us go then, you and I, / When the evening is spread out against the sky / Like a patient etherized upon a table.”
I didn’t know why my writing professor would often quote those lines in our discussion classes. But I was an 18 year-old sophomore who had not read T. S. Eliot.
“The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” turns 100 this year. Check out the Poetry Foundation’s piece about it. I’ll try really hard to ignore the fact that Eliot was my age when he published it. Try hard.